The Magecraft Chronicles III Story Thread

[Myrdraxxis]

The book rested in his hands, talons curled around the edges as if to protect it. Varaask stared down at the pages, unblinking eyes scanning the ancient script that was written down the yellowed pages in a language that looked so complex and maddening in its form that even the avian sorcerer’s mind struggled to fully comprehend it. The book was old, ancient. Far older than Varaask. Tentatively the Arkarris turned the page, eyes never leaving the pages. His eyes narrowed as they fell on the words of the next page. The letters were shifting and writhing, as of the book was a living organic thing. A part of Varaask’s vast mind entertained the thought for a moment before dismissing it. Still, there was something wrong…

His beaked mouth opened and spoke in a language that was not of this plane. The words began to glow a soft blue, lighting up the darkness of the room around it. Varaask scanned the page again, feathers quivering in confusion. Something was different. For decades he had been in possession of this book. Since his master had passed on. Every day he observed the pages, the complex dimensions that were represented by ancient words.
Something was different.

The world became red as the soft glow turned an angry blood red color, making Varaask squawk in surprise, nearly dropping the book. The angry red letters began to move, picking up speed until the page was a myriad of swirling color. Varaask looked away hurriedly, slamming the book closed with a loud snap.

Varaask stared at the closed book, mind racing. This had never happened before. Never in his lifetime. But he knew what it meant. Everyone who held the book were expected to know what it meant, though never truly expected to have to deal with the consequences. He and those before him were fools to think that they would be able to hold them forever.
It was foolishness to think that they would not return.

Varaask stood slowly, setting the tome aside. He needed to leave. To search for aid. There was no way to prevent what was coming.

Only prepare.

-=-

Ezeriah awoke to the gentle humming of the ship, energy coursing through the leylines that latticed the airship and kept the metal behemoth afloat. He could feel the magic the magic flowing around him even through his armor. Ezeriah’s mind came into focus as he noticed the shuffling sounds of movement around him. Around him, soldiers were gearing up for war, attaching battle armor and testing out blades.

Ezeriah rose from his position against the far wall of the cargo bay. His team had commandeered the bay of the Dauntless for the voyage from Arcia. Some of the warriors had grumbled at the lack of proper transportation, but Ezeriah understood the necessity behind securing privateer passage over a navy warship. They had to pass dangerously close to Imperial Vaer to reach their target, and the Vaerian would no doubt take offense to intrusion on their territory. Especially from Arcian elite troops.

Ezeriah felt the ship jerk slightly beneath him. It was almost time. “Make ready, brothers.” He called over the din of the ship engines. The other Battle Magi of Team Secundus secured their armor and readied their weapons. There was a beeping tone from the communications device hooked onto the wall near Ezeriah’s head.

“Captain Solomon here.” The box chirped.

“Go ahead, captain.” Ezeriah replied, surveying the team as they formed up before him. Each one had their helmets in place, featureless faces staring back at their commander. His team.

“We are approaching the castle ruins from one of the lower tiers near the cliff-face. Any higher and we’ll risk discovery.”

“Acknowledged. We are ready.”

In response, the cargo bay began to rumble as the back wall began to lower, exposing the snowy caps of Nostia’s mountains beyond. An icy blast of wind hit Ezeriah, and he secured his helmet. “Brothers, prepare for drop.”

The ship began its descent, and Ezeriah watched as mountains rose past them. And then the castle came into view.
Castle Kelenyr was large, even by Nostian standards. Old Nostia had seen many such castles, but Kelenyr was the only one of its kind to have survived five centuries of weathers and arcane storms. Necromancer Lords had long fought over ownership for the Keep, but as far as Ezeriah knew, it had been under control of the same mage for the last twenty years. Either way, the Keep had finally been marked for elimination by the higher ups in Arcia.

The ship shook as it slowed its descent, leveling out near a large cliff outcropping that served as one of Kelenyr’s lower battlements.

“We’ve reached the target, commander.” The Dauntless’s captain spoke over the comm.

“Roger that, captain. We are moving out.”

“Good luck to you, sir.” The comm. went dead. Ezeriah stepped towards the edge of the cargo bay. He looked over his shoulder.

“Secundus, move out!” He yelled over the howling wind and jumped from the ship.

-=-

Nathanial watched the airship disappear back into the night, thumbing the holster at his side. He stood behind a large stone pillar in one of the many side-halls that looked out over the large valley that Kelenyr lorded over. Nathaniel lowered his gaze to the lower terrace, a good distance below him. Figures were moving around on the platform, making their way into the cliff-side and the lower levels of Kelenyr. Curious. He hadn’t seen any markings on the ship indicating its allegiance. A privateer then. Or a pirate. Either way it didn’t make sense for them to be way out here.

“They won’t be making our job any easier, I reckon.” quipped a voice behind Nathaniel as the Mage Hunter’s sergeant, Damian Faust, stepped up beside him. Faust was a tall man, his form bulked by the great-coat and body armor he wore giving him a very intimidating appearance. “What could they want all the way up here?”

Nathaniel hummed thoughtfully, tugging his hat to shield has face from the cold wind. “Ishabel.” He said, his voice barely carrying over the sounds of the wind. “Can you see them?”

The young blond woman joined Nathaniel and Faust at the edge of the terrace. Nathaniel could barely see her face under the hood she wore almost constantly along with her white robes. “I can try.” She replied softly, narrowing her bright green eyes at the lower ledge. The air hummed as she gathered magic. Faust grunted distastefully and looked away. The man had a rather low tolerance for magic in general.

“They’re soldiers. Well armed.” The scryer said. She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate further. “Arcian Battle Magi.” Her voice betrayed a note of surprise. Faust swore.

“What the hell are those magicker freaks doing here?” the man’s thick Vaerian accent was laced with disgust.

“No doubt the same reason we are.” Ishabela replied with a small smirk. Faust rounded on the girl but Nathaniel stepped between them.

“This means we’ll have to speed thing up, won’t we.” He growled. Faust nodded slowly.

“Sir!” A call from further in made them turn. “We’re through the doors.” Nathaniel nodded and began walking from his position. Five troopers clad in black long-coats and body armor stood by the large doors, their faces hidden by the helmets and half-masks they wore. Each were soldiers that Nathaniel had hand-picked himself for his missions. They had proven to be exemplary assets. With them was a lithe figure clad in mottled gray and black clothes, two slim swords strapped to his waist.
The Xiolinese man nodded wordlessly as the trio approached. “Sir,” one of the storm-troopers saluted sharply. “We’re ready to proceed.”

Nathaniel nodded. “Do it. Be ready for heavy resistance, no doubt the lord of this place has more minions further in. And be ready for Arcian troops.” The soldiers nodded wordlessly. Nathaniel approached the door and drew his Vaerian custom pistol. He kicked the doors in with a loud ’bang’.

The Mage Hunter’s retinue rushed in quietly. Nathaniel had been correct; the Necromancer did indeed have more minions. A skeletal figure hurled itself at the group, its body glowing with haunting blue energy, claws outstretched.

The dark-clad storm-troopers reacted smoothly, bringing their Repeater Rifles (a new Vaerian invention, higher grade than the standard single-shot muskets of the regulars) and filling the creature full of bullets.

The room filled with eerie moans and came alive as more necromantic corpses revealed themselves.

“Xing.” Nathaniel barked, drawing one of the swords at his side and aiming his pistol with his other hand. The mute Xiolinese man nodded and drew his own blades, launching himself into the fray with impressive speed. The storm-troopers drew their own sabers and charged.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to go unnoticed anymore.” Faust commented, firing a round from his own pistol into the melee. Nathaniel grunted, hacking the head off of a minion.

“Then we’ll have to be quick.”

The Magecraft Chronicles

III

[Mizagium]

Valendis Gae'om stepped out of the Southern Arcian Aerodrome and squinted in the sunlight. He adjusted his glasses and gathered his bearings. Having only seen the new country from the distance of an airship, the only thing that marked a difference between Ossen and Arcia was the significant lack of air traffic. Not that Arcian airspace was completely empty, it's just that after growing up in a nation of pirates and privateers, anything less than constant airships he considered clear skies. Behind him, the gleaming white stone of the aerodrome stood out against the gentle ebb and flow of the ocean.

"I like this place much better," grumbled a voice from Valendis' front pocket. The tiny head of a twigman popped up and sucked in a deep, salty breath.

"Better than what," Valendis asked the Familair. "Ossen, or the airship?"

"Both!" Jorsin exclaimed. "I remember the days before Ossen was dominated by pirates. It was clean then, and quiet, and I didn't fear for my life every time I left the house." He paused. "Did I mention it was cleaner?"

"It might have slipped out." Valendis smiled at the tiny man. Despite his size and constant complaining, Jorsin was quite knowledgeable about the world. Having lived with the Gae'om family for hundreds of years will do that.

"Don't patronize him," the cat-like creature at his heels commented. "If you do, you'll only make him think it's ok for him to talk." Raefe, a Fury, turned her nose up at Jorsin and hissed.

From the safety of his seat, the twigman stuck his tongue out at her, but ducked down when she made as if to lunge at him. Valendis laughed. Twenty something years of this and it still amused him. Maybe it was because, considering how old they actually were, the way they acted like children was almost unbelievable.

"Children, please." Hesseppatt, a roc - the third and final Gae'om Familiar swooped down and perched on Valendis' shoulder, opposite Jorsin. She tended to act like the den mother to the other Familiars, which included breaking up fights. "We've only just begun this journey, so can we keep the bickering to a minimum?"

Their muffled grumbles were something of assent.

Valendis nodded by way of thanks.

"It's a shame we couldn't charter an airship to Kyros, though," he lamented. "Could save us a lot of time."

"Would it be worth Jorsin's complaints?" Raefe posited, half-joking.

"Point," Val conceded.

"Hey!" Jorsin shouted, but ducked away again at the sight of Raefe's teeth.

"The only reason we're even here is because of your family's connections to the pirates - er, freelancers. You remember how reluctant they were to even come this far."

Valendis sighed. "Yeah, and we certainly don't have the money for an Arcian ship. Especially one bound for Kyros.

They all shared a collective sigh. "Guess we're walking."

~~~~~

He awoke to the gentle crashing of waves against the beach and the feel of warm, damp sand. Tide must be coming in. he decided irreverently.

Wait.

Why was he on a beach? What beach was this? How did he get here? What was the last thing he remembered? Who was he?

His eyes snapped open in a panic and he was greeted by a pig-tailed redheaded teenage girl standing over him. "You're finally awake, sleepy-head" she said simply.

A whole host of question raced through his head, but he settled on the most obvious: "Where am I?"

"A beach in southern Vaer."

"Where's that?"

She screwed up her face in thought. "Well..."

"Actually, it doesn't matter." He sat up and brushed the sand from his hands and hair. "How did I get here?"

She shrugged. "Not sure. I was walking by and I saw you laying in the sand. I came over to make sure you weren't dead, and if you weren't, to make sure you didn't get swallowed by the tide."

She said it so cheerfully, it was almost off-putting.

"Wonderful."

She skipped over and crouched down in front of him. "What do you remember?"

He sighed and shook his head. "Not much."

She frowned. "So you can function, but you don't know you're name, how you got here, or anything about the world?"

"That...pretty much sums it up."

She looked him over. "Looks like a chronomancer must have tampered with your memory, then, since real amnesia doesn't work that way."

"Wonderful," he muttered. "Why would someone do that?"

"Beats me."

He groaned and flopped back on the sand. The red-head sat down next to him, legs to one side to avoid giving him a look up her skirt.

"Well, since I got nothing, how about you tell me your name?"

"Asayla," she answered cheerfully. "Asayla Falsum."

He looked her over. "I won't remember that. I'll call you...Red."

"Ok."

"Are you happy all the time?"

"Yep!"

"Excellent," he deadpanned.

He laid there for a long time in the sand with the young girl beside him. "Well, I ain't getting anywhere laying here. Feel like showing me to the nearest town, Red?"

She helped him to his feet and chuckled sheepishly. "Actually, I don't know my way around here very well. You see, I'm from Ossen, which is south of here."

He raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?" When she nodded yes, he asked, "Then what the hell are you doing here?"

"Hehe, looking for the lost treasure of the legendary pirate Greenbeard!"

He stared at her for a long time: she in her halter top and shirt, arms raised to the sky in excitement, long red pigtails flowing the sea breeze. She couldn't have been older than sixteen.

Silently, he turned and walked away.

"Hey!" she shouted. "Don't leave me here alone! I could get kidnapped and raped!"

And she chased after him.

[Monika]

"Why am I always the one carrying the Book?" Such was the complaint of Lenore Morana. She and her traveling partner, Kazan Farren, had been walking across Arcia for five years now, and each time they had set out on foot, she had been the one to carry 'The Book' - a tome of experiences, spells and general guidelines that she and Kazan abode by. A tome that was well over ten thousand pages. A tome that was really, really heavy. In an effort to keep a civil relationship, however, she had avoided bringing the issue to light...until now. "We've been traveling by foot for half a decade now. That's five years, Kazan, that I've had to carry the Book." With one complaint off of her chest, she was inclined to share the rest of her grievances as well. "That's five years we've been scouring the lands of Arcia without making progress in the Mission. Five years of aimless wandering with Lady Eleanora doing all of the work." Lenore never referred to herself by her full name and title unless she was particularly annoyed, and this was one such case. Her complaints were entirely justified, of course. Even as she spoke, she and Kazan were wandering around the outskirts of Arcia, far removed from any resting place or signs of civilization.

"Come on, Nori!" Kazan piped up, surprisingly cheerful. Of course, he hadn't been doing much work as of late, so his happiness could be expected. "You know the Cult's rules. The most powerful Cult member gets the honor of carrying the Book. I'm sure the author would be proud."

'The author would probably have me get rid of the group members who aren't carrying their weight...' Lenore mused. "You act like I'm the 'Queen of Magic' or something. If you put half as much effort into training as you did into not leading, I'm sure you'd be just as good as I am." She stopped in her tracks, unwilling to walk any further until she and Kazan settled the matter.

"Nori, please!" Kazan stopped as well, turning toward Lenore. "You're a natural born sorceress! Not all of us can just whip up giant golems or solar flares out of nowhere." He dramatically moved his hands as he spoke, making hand motions that were supposed to symbolize giants and suns and the other nonsense he thought Lenore could do.

"Ugh." Lenore rolled her eyes and carefully set the Book on the ground. "Look. It's not hard. If you tried, you could probably do everything I could do."

"Yea, suuuuure." Kazan replied in clear disbelief

"Hmph. Pay attention and bear witness to what happens when you actually practice." From her back, Lenore unsheathed her family staff, a large rod with a spiked ring at the top. "Stand back." she commanded. Once Kazan had taken a few (very long) steps away, Lenore stamped her staff on the ground, closed her eyes, took several deep breaths and spoke. "Incola Mundus Spiritus... A dramatic wind blew from the horizon, picking up sand and dirt.

"Custodite mandata mea et responde..." Lenore made motions through the air with her staff. As she did so, the wind grew fiercer, battering Kazan with all the contents of the ground.

"Watch what you're doing!" he exclaimed, but Lenore couldn't hear him. She was now in a mystical trance, unable to hear or feel the outside world until she was done.

"Mihi dicere: Venerunt ad me..." The skies above them darkened and gray storm clouds appeared above. Each cloud seemed to glow with a strange, magical blue color...

"I don't know if you should be doing this right now...Feel free to stop at any-

"MASTER TIER LIGHTNING DRAGON, IXION!" Lenore shouted, and before Kazan could finish his objection, a bolt of lightning came straight down from one of the clouds right in front of him, knocking him off of his feet.

"LENORE! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!" Kazan exclaimed, more bolts of lightning striking everywhere around him. "YOU CAN STOP NOW!"

But it was too late. The incantation was complete. A final, silver bolt of lightning appeared right in front of Lenore, brightening the land with a light so intense that it would've blinded anyone but the most experienced summoners or those lucky enough to shut their eyes, like Kazan. When the light cleared, all Kazan could see was an enormous, two headed dragon that seemed to be pulsing with electricity.

"Oh. My. God...You turned into a dragon!? That's awesome!" After overcoming his initial shock, Kazan was quite pleased with this display of magic.

"No, you idiot. I summoned him." Lenore rolled her eyes again and stepped in front of the dragon. "A little bit of practice and you could probably do the same." she said. In actuality, Lenore had been studying summoning since she learned how to speak - the Morana family had a strict training regiment for the first born females. Still, the point stood that if Kazan would practice every once in a while, he could probably accomplish something.

"Yea, probably." Kazan muttered, not really paying attention at Lenore, too busy looking at the dragon in awe.

"Ok, Ixion. You can-

"Wait, Nori!" Kazan interrupted her before she could send the dragon back.

"What now?"

"Since he's here, we might as well use him...Like, for travel or something..." Kazan grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Lenore glared at Kazan for a moment, almost feeling used. Then she looked down at the Book at her feet, and realized how much she hated carrying it. 'You win this time, Kazan...' she thought, grabbing the book and tossing it onto Ixion, climbing up onto one of its necks afterward. Kazan climbed up onto the other neck, still grinning.

"This is gross misuse of such a powerful creature from the Spirit Realm..." Lenore sighed.

"Yea, yea. We'll discuss summoning ethics later. Right now, let's go!" What Kazan lacked in magical aptitude, he more than made up for in charisma and deception so, before long, the two were flying across Arcia on Ixion, searching for anything or anyone that could help them accomplish the Mission...

[Razgat]

"Oh, the sky is dark and the clouds are cold
As far as the eye can see
As I walk the land standing tall and bold
As happy as I can be

Just lookin' around for some undead folks
Or some blood that someone can spare
While they may not be willing when I poke
I really couldn't care

Becaaaaaaaause

I'm a Necromancer in Nostia
And Blood Mage all to boot
If you cross me once, then it will cost ya
Because I am so cute

Oh, because I am so cute
Because I can take your blood to boot
Oh and all your refusals are moot."

"Oh, would you look at that?" Deyanira's eyes widened as she ended her catchy tune. "A skull in perfect condition!" She rushed over to it and scooped it off of the ground. "Well, aren't you just beautiful!? There isn't a scratch on you!"

Deyanira gave the skull the once over. It seemed to be in perfect condition. There were no cracks, and it was incredibly smooth and white. It's eye holes even seemed to be shaped into an angry expression. "I bet you'll look wonderful on a staff!"

She took the skull and wrapped it up in a cloth she had in her bag. She always carried one with her whenever she went scavenging for bones. Not many other necromancers liked to make sculptures or rearrange bones, so she had no competition to worry about. She did, however, need to worry about others trying to use it to animate.

Deyanira picked herself off of the ground and looked around her. She had collected a good many today, and this perfect skull just made her day better. She figured it was the perfect time to head back home. She had lived in Nostia with her parents for as long as she could remember. They lived in a rather small house they made out of the things they had found. Bones, some dark wood, cloth, anything really. It held up nicely, and Deyanira was happy with her home. Her parents, Asima and Argus Iphigenia, had started teaching her blood magic and necromancy ever since she was old enough. For some reasons they did not understand, Deyanira had picked up the skills extremely quickly. Normally, one would expect the magic to corrupt the user enough to give them a sullen or dark demeanor, yet Deyanira had been cheerful and happy her entire life, and the magic she learned seemed to have no effect. In a way, her cheery attitude just made her magic appear more frightening to others, but her parents didn't complain. They were simply happy that she was happy.

Her cheerfulness had often gotten her into trouble. Others called her a fake or weakling because she had a different personality compared to others. She always reacted badly. Though her personality didn't change, it almost seemed to take on a different purpose. Her eyes became wild and hateful, and she unleashed her powers upon anyone who dared to judge her based on her happiness. It was a frightening sight to behold. Unfortunately, this had caused the family to live away from others, but they loved each others' company, and the seclusion didn't bother them. They found it rather livable, especially since the mage hunters usually didn't come out this far.

Deyanira continued her trek home, humming her song to herself along the way.

[Damien]

Izaak awoke to the grim scene of storm clouds outside the window of his small cottage on the outskirts of Kyros. What a wonderful start to the day, he thought sarcastically.

He gathered his cloak, staff, and satchel and walked out. He made his way towards his place of work, the Shadowed Alley tavern. He'd been working there since he finally mastered his elemental magic, and now made a living fire-dancing inside and outside of the tavern.

He looked up at the sky and saw the clouds pass over and stop just above the tavern. He had arrived early as usual, but this time, the spare key the owner left out for him was not there. Thunder boomed overhead, and rain came down in a deluge upon him.

Great, he thought. Just what I need...

Suddenly, the door opened, and Izaak turned to look. He expected to see the owner, but the owner wasn't there, only a pale-skinned stranger with silver-white hair dressed in all black.

"Hello," said the stranger. "Won't you come in?"

-----

Sorin had been skulking about the alleyways of Kyros, watching the people walking by. He'd always been a people-watcher, but today he felt somewhat mischievous. A man walked past the alley, not noticing Sorin.

"Kopraan vokun gron!" he said, and a line of shadow shot from the edge of the alley and wrapped around the man's leg, tripping him.

"Vulom feim!" he whispered. As he finished his spell, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving the man freaked out.

When he finally reappeared on the Material Plane, he found himself inside a tavern. There was a robed man standing outside the door getting drenched by rain. "Maybe I should let him in," Sorin said to himself.

He walked to the door and opened it. The robed man turned at the sound of the door opening, and the jumped back in surprise. Probably expecting the owner, he thought, chuckling inwardly.

"Hello," said Sorin to the robed man. "Won't you come in?"

[Sariel of Tevet]

And there they were. Lifeless. Inanimate. As cold and unforgiving as the icy permafrost they collapsed on. I looked around in horror as the masses lay scattered across the barren, frosted earth. And there they were. The populace of a once active clan, a small one at that but a carefree and joyful people. MY carefree and joyful people. MY loved ones. MY friends. MY family. And there they were.

Roluo awoke unstartled, not peacefully but with indifference. The dreams didn't frighten him anymore. He had not yet come to terms with what his hubris had produced (or rather destroyed) that day, nor had he hoped to. He had only become numb to the tragic theater that was now his subconscious. A subconscious that had the need to remind him that he brought an end to the lives of all those innocent people. His friends and his own mother, struck down by the feral beast he had failed to successfully summon. The same beast that left him scarred and haunted. If only my father hadn't left. If only he hadn't left behind the legacy he had. He thought as he raised his hand to trace the top of the thick scar emanating from his neck. No, no I am the one to blame. If only I hadn't had to prove anything. If I didn't need to be better than him, maybe they would still...His thoughts trailed off as a group of tern flew overhead and noisily interrupted his self loathing dialogue.

He rose and looked around at the wasteland, taking in the sun and the landscapes around him. The world looked exactly like the place of his birth, but home was miles away from him now. Sadly everything in Nostia looked the same. It's a wonder that the nomadic necromancer tribes managed to track their whereabouts as successfully as they did.

"Well, I guess we're walking again eh Liulfr?" he sighed with about as much half-hearted levity as he could muster. He knelt down and untied the end of his bag and poured out the contents onto the snow. A pile of bones fell from the leather sack and he stepped back a few feet and raised his staff to the sky. With a deep breath and a sharp focus he chanted, "Manes Turbidi Sollictique Vocam!" The bones shook and a spell circle began to form around the pile. Slowly an abstract form became visible inside the beam of light, somehow crafting itself into a creature. With a soul wrenching howl an undead wolf stepped out of the circle and bounded straight for Roluo, tackling him to the ground adoringly. "Hey now cut it out! I know you still feel the same as you used to but I'm still trying to get used to the whole undead pet thing."
He pushed Liulfr aside and stood up dusting the snow from his cloak. He looked longingly towards the undead wolf, trying to see his childhood pet inside of the abomination that sat before him. Liulfr was the only thing that remained of the life he had left behind so many months ago now. As depressing as it seems the ghoulish hound was the only companion he had left, and even so the relationship only existed because of a necromancer's ability to access memories from the deceased. As far as he was concerned, he was the first to actually think to try to attach the memories to the host fiend. So fortunately Liulfr still retained his playful and loyal disposition, but unfortunately the exposed flesh and bone seemed to take a lot of getting used to.

"Come on boy", he said as he slapped the back of his leg, "lets head out, a chronomancer isn't going to just pop out in front and say hello now will he?"

Just then a black figure began to take shape past the horizon. As he and Liulfr stared of into the distance it became apparent that the figure was in fact wandering in their direction. Friend or foe Roluo knew he had to take this chance because he never knew when he may come across another person in this arctic prison again. He was only sure of two things after the accident. One, that the only way to get past his transgressions were to find a chronomancer and have his memory wiped. And two, he had no clue of where to come across one, nor had he any clue of where to find anyone who may know the whereabouts of one. So he needed to talk to anyone he came across. Whether the information were fact or rumor, he knew only that he had to follow it. He just had to do something to be able to continue on.
And with that, Roluo and Liulfr, the unlikely pair that they were, set off toward the figure in hopes that they may finally have their answer.

[Mizagium]

As it happened, he was unable to shake the strange, treasure-hunting redhead who has found him on the beach. Not that he tried that hard, but after walking away from her for about twenty minutes, he finally gave up and asked her where the nearest town was. She smiled devious and said, "Dunno."

He smashed his face with his hand really hard. She twirled on her toes and started off away from the beach in a direction that might have lead to the freaking end of the world, for all he knew. With a defeated sigh, he trudged after her.

"Wait up," he called.

She slowed, but didn't stop. "Sticking with me now, are you?"

"Only until I can figure out what to do next," he replied, mainly as a promise to himself that he would ditch the teenager as soon as possible.

They walked together for a while, eventually finding a worn path that lead inland. Imperial Vear was nice looking, he decided. Or at least the country was. He had only seen about a square mile of it, but he already liked the look of it. A cloud passed in front of the sun and provided them with some breezy shade.

"You don't have a name, huh?" Red asked out of nowhere.

He regarded her for a moment before responding. "No."

"Everyone has a name," she said solemnly. "It's who they are; it defines them."

They serious manner in which she spoke was a sharp contrast her previous happy-go-lucky demeanor, and it made him turn his head sharply towards her. She avoided looking at his eyes. He watched her for a long time, trying to decide what she was.

"You're right," he finally agreed. "Everyone needs a name. But I can't remember mine; it's like I'm nobody, like I don't exist."

"What should I call you, then?"

"Don't care."

She started to protest. "But, you just said - !"

"Yeah, I did," he cut her off. "But since I can't remember my name, I'm going to try to figure it out; I'm not going to start inventing a new identity just because I can't remember my old one. It's still there, just...hidden."

Silence descended over them for a while, during which he discovered he was shaking, but from anger or what, he wasn't sure. He had probably raised his voice at her, too.

when he was sure he could speak without shouting again, he tried his hand as apologizing. "Look, Red - "

But she didn't let him. "Since you can't remember your name, I'll make up one for you until you remember yours: a nickname, like you did for me. Okay?"

He smiled wanly. "Alright."

This time, when she looked at him, she met his eyes. "Hm. What are you? Vincent? Nah, that's been done. Vi'ir? No. Volitar? Maybe. What about V- ?"

"What's with all the 'V' names?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Pooh, you're no fun. Fine. I'll call you Inanis," she announced with a giggle.

"What's so funny?" he demanded.

"It means 'Empty' in another language."

"Oh, kinda like how your last name means 'False' in that language?"

It was her time to be fearfully silent.

"Relax, Red. You got your secrets, and they're yours. I'm not going to pry into your past. But if you ever want to talk about it, I'll listen."

Once more they walked in silence, but not uncomfortably. It was a mutual understanding, they had. Nothing had to be said.

"Thanks," Red said anyway.

~~~~~

"Does anyone else, see that?"

All three Familiars looked up and followed Valendis' gaze toward the horizon. Arcia's Southern Aerodrome had only just vanished behind them when they say the storm ahead.

"It's just a storm, Jorsin," Hesseppatt replied. "Nothing to get worried about.

Raefe hissed. "A storm! I hate storms!"

"A Fury afraid of a little storm?" Valendis teased.

"As if!" Raefe stuck her nose up at them. "Rain messes up my coat."

"Um, guys?" Jorsin hunkered down in the pocket, his nose and eyes poking out. "It's not a storm." They all turned to look again. Realization dawned on all of their faces.

"It's a dragon."

Motherfucking Ixion.

[Razgat]

Deyanira's humming was interrupted by the humming of airships. She glanced towards the sound with curious eyes. "Oh? I wonder what all the hubub is all about?"

She began to turn around towards it. "Maybe I should tell Mom and Dad first?....Nah." Without another thought, she began to head towards the castle they had descended upon.

[Monika]

"Where exactly are we going?" Lenore asked, more to herself than to Kazan. He had roped her into calling Ixion to take them somewhere, but neither of them had any idea what that somewhere was.

"Wooooooo!" Kazan couldn't hear Lenore over the sound of the wind rushing past them as they soared the skies on Ixion. He was ecstatic to be off of his feet for once, destination in mind or not. "Hey, Nori! NOOORIII!" he shouted.

"Not all of us have difficulty hearing, you know..." Lenore rolled her eyes.

"Yea, whatever! Look down there! People! Honest to goodness people!" Kazan excitedly pointed toward the ground where, albeit faintly, a single person could be seen.

"It's just some guy," Lenore replied. "You act like you've never seen one before."

"Come on, Nori! We should pick him up and give him a ride! Maybe he can help us out!" Kazan insisted.

"When did Ixion turn into a form of public transportation?!" Lenore looked at Kazan incredulously. She noticed he was eager to meet this person (it was the first one they had seen in some time, now) and they didn't have any other leads at the moment. 'Couldn't hurt, I guess...' she thought. "Kazan: 2. Lenore: 0..." Chalking up another victory for Kazan, she motioned for Ixion to descend, and soon they were speeding rapidly toward solid ground again.

[TEAM_DERRICK]

Noland awoke with a daze and a headache. The sun's rays felt as if they were a pneumatic drill tunneling into his grey matter. Worse, he was pretty sure that the sludge on his shoe was his own vomit. He tried to remember last night, anything.

'Okay, there was the girl, the other girl, and that whore. I kept buying them booze, and I... Kept drinking... Well, damn. Man, I can tell that I probably don't want to remember what happened last night.'

As he walked out of the alley, he found that he wasn't anywhere near the bar. In fact, it looked like he'd gone over a border.

The signs told him everything he really needed to know. Anti-magic slogans were plastered over every street sign, every bill board. He was used to feeling discriminated against, being albino will do that to you, but having it forced upon him whilst still in a drunken stupor... It couldn't end well.

And it didn't, because he then proceeded to walk up to the nearest person he could find and punched him in the throat. It wasn't until the guy it the ground that he'd realized what he'd done. He forgot to tip.

*ba-dum-tshhh*

[Mizagium]

Inanis laid on the ground for a moment for he got back up. "The fuck?"

Without thinking he drew both of his longswords and tackled the drunk to the ground, swords poised in an X pattern across the other's throat. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded. "Speak quickly, or your head rolls."

Red watched in stunned silence.

~~~~~

Valendis and the Familiars dove out of the way of Ixion as he landed.

"Um, hello?" He waved amiably at the individuals riding astride the Dragon of Lighting.

[TEAM_DERRICK]

Well it certainly looks like Noland's gotten himself stuck a sticky situation, huh? Who are you talking to? Well, who are you talking to buddy? Listen, don't steal Tyler's stream of consciousness crap. It's funny when he does it. Look, you and I both know that I'm only doing this to fill space. No I didn't. Shaddup.

Well, regardless of my apparent literary schizophrenia, Noland was pretty much fucked. Unfortunately for his victim, he was also insanely intoxicated.

"I'M THE MOTHA-FUCKING FLEET LORD!" screamed Noland as he proceeded to spit in the man's face. Before the swordmaster could properly butcher him, Noland also kneed the man in the groin.

However, this didn't prove to help his situation any better, so Noland also redirected some light off of the man's swords, blinding him, and then proceeded to wait for the guy to get up.

"Bitch, I'm a... *gulp, audibly breathe in* I'm... *breathe out*Fuck, man I'm something."

[Sariel of Tevet]

"Hey!! Hey you over here!!" Roluo shouted as he waved his arms over his head. The figure didn't seem to be phased at all by the pairs presence. It just maintained its oddly paced swagger off into some general direction, a general direction that it didn't seem to even know it was headed towards. "Liulfr is that bastard crazy or just drunk?" he said as he scratched his head with his bone staff, bewildered. "oh well only one way to find out I guess."

The pair trotted off after the figure, the cold Nostia wind nipping at their faces, one of the few things that still brought Roluo joy in this world aside from his faithful feral companion. Although as they began to draw closer to what now seemed to be a vagabond, that crisp Nostia air started to smell curiously like alcohol.


The duo approached the man and he somehow stumbled to a stop in front of them, he was staring off into the distance but it seemed as thought he were directing his attention towards Roluo anyway.

"Sir my name is Roluo, and this is my..."

"YOU AND YOUR BADGER LEAVE ME ALONE."

Roluo resisted the urge to laugh and inquired, "...badger? Sir this is..."

"Don't you back talk me boy I know a badger when I see one! And I see one!" he slurred as he awkwardly turned his body to finally face them. "Now you and your BADGER there best be gettin' outta my way because there's a storm coming and I gotta get outta here."

"A storm? But it's perfect out?" He looked up to the sky searching for any sign of chaotic weather, only to find more flocks of noisy tern floating around in the morning sky. "Nev...nevermind. Me and my "badger" will leave you alone as soon as you tell me if you know of any chronomancers. I'm desperately trying to fi..."

"Nope never heard of one. Aint no mantises around these parts you crazy bastard. What kind of insects could survive in this wasteland? You aren't all there are ya boy? Figures. Now get out of my way I'm trying to get out of this frost bitten place before the world goes and ends."

Shocked at the statement, he halfheartedly asks, "end of the world? You mean because of the storm right?"

"Boy what the hell are you yabberin' on about now there aint a god damned cloud in the sky!! First you aint got the common sense to know a badger when here you are palling around with the damn thing like you're some sort of animal rights activist, then you start asking me about exotic insects, and now I gotta explain whether to you? What the hell do they teach you kids these days? Storm my ass. I only wish it were that. Now follow me kid, I'll explain everything real slow like." The beggar slowed down his voice in what he thought was an attempt to talk to Roluo in a manner he and his "badger" could comprehend, but his speech was slurred enough from the drinking that he seemed to almost quit speaking altogether. "Now over yonder where I'm tryin' to get away from is a castle called Kelenyr. Now these airships...erm these...how can I put it in ways you can understand...it's a badger flying device. You and your lover here could fly up high in the sky away from me and carry on with all your nonsense believin storms and playin with bugs all you want and not ever have to touch the ground. Now these airships are kinda dangerous, so I was runnin' away before you two assholes stopped me. Now I'm probably gonna die when the end of the world comes and the airships come take all the booze away and I'll have nothing to live for anymore!! You know kid I envy you and your llama, I sure wish I had a companion. I had a dingo once and we used ta.."

"Um sir...I think we'll be going now. Me and my "badger" or umm...."llama" now I guess have to be going."

"Llama? Son the hell is you calling that giraffe a walrus for. Are you drunk?"

"....ok....we'll be going now. It was nice meeting you I guess..." And with that they departed from stammering bag of alcohol began wandering on their own again.

After a few miles Roluo stopped and sat down on a nearby rock, leaned back and gave out a huge sigh. Liulfr came and sat at his feet like always and laid his head in Roluo's lap. He looked down and patted the undead wolf's head and muttered, "you know boy its just our luck. The one man we come across in months and he had to be some drunken beggar. I doubt there are even airships anywhere. How could we ever trust someone as intoxicated and crazy as hi..." And with that his voice trailed, being overcome by a monumental humming noise. The likes of which he had never heard before. Startled he raised his eyes to the sky and his heart pounded as he realized the crazy old man was right.

"Well boy, I guess there is a storm coming after all."

[Monika]

"Yo!" Kazan jumped fell crashed down from Ixion in his eagerness to meet this new person, landing with a loud thud sound. Seemingly unaffected, he ran over to this person, looked him over and began a string of greetings. "Hey! I'm Kazan. What's your name? What are you doing out here? Would you like to ride on this awesome two headed dragon? How-

"Ahem," Lenore descended from Ixion much more gracefully, lightly pushing Kazan aside. "Forgive him. He hasn't seen a new person in a while..." 'Idiot.' she thought, rolling her eyes in exasperation, much like an older sister might in the same situation. Remembering her manners, she introduced herself. "Lady Eleanora Morana, of the Morana family," she said, bowing slightly as she had been taught to do as a child.

[Myrdraxxis]

The border between Vaer and Nostia has always been a closely guarded by the Imperial Army, always vigilant against any signs of malevolent movement from its northern neighbor. It could even be said that Vaer was paranoid when it came to dealing with the northern necromancers, sometimes going so far as to send raiding parties into the northern keeps to eliminate potential threats. Despite this, Nostia had been quiet for nearly five years.

That was, until three months ago. The Vaerian government began to receive reports of settlements, or sometimes even entire towns disappearing. Scouts were dispatched into the lower reaches of Nostia to search for clues. None returned. While unwilling to send more troops into Nostia without further proof, this incident could not be overlooked and the Emperor himself called upon his secret weapons to investigate the matter. The Mage Hunters.


The ghoul let loose a chilling scream as it charged Nathaniel, its eyes glowing with unholy hatred. The Mage Hunter's pistol fired, blowing a hole through the undead's skull. Nathaniel grunted, dodging a clawed hand that slashed by his face as another undead minion replaced the one he'd just killed.

"Bloody hell, how many are there?" Faust roared, fighting back to back with one of the storm-troopers.

The team had killed their way through nearly half the castle by Nathaniel's estimation. And it had been a fight every step of the way. There were hundreds of undead infesting this Keep and at this point Nathaniel was fairly sure that his initial suspicions were correct; There was more than one Necromancer. Conclaves of Necromancers weren't common, but they did happen sometimes.

"We're getting close!" Ishabeth called from her hiding place behind one of the tall pillars that crept up the grey stone walls. The Scryer wasn't a fighter, but she still fired into the undead with the small pistol that Nathaniel had given her when she first signed on. None of his team went unarmed.

"We need to hurry." Nathaniel said. He sliced a bone minion in two. "Those Arcians will catch up to us eventually."

"Ah." Faust muttered, sliding more bullets into his gun as the last ghoul body hit the floor with a sickening crunch. "I'd forgotten about them." Xing silently rolled his eyes.

"Sir, we're ready to proceed. Minimal casualties." One of the troopers -Kasser, Nathaniel believed his name was- saluted. He was favoring his left leg, and another of the troopers was tying off a gash to his arm, but otherwise there seemed to be no damage. Nathaniel nodded.

"We should be reaching the Great Hall soon." Faust, having taken the time to study ancient sketches of the Nostian keep, said, running a hand over his shaved head. "There will be the real challenge."

"Be ready." Nathaniel said. He eyed Faust for a moment. "I can count on you for this, yes?"

"Always, my lord." Faust replied. Without another word Nathaniel started for the stairs that would lead them to the Great hall of Kelenyr. And their targets.

-=-

Ezeriah nudged the rotting corpse with his boot, snorting in disgust. Around him, the other members of Secundus secured the hallway, though there was little left here save the bodies of undead. Ezeriah was a good soldier, and he knew that no army was perfect. He tolerated a great many things, but one that could not was bad intel.

"We are not the only ones here." A Magi to his left, Brother Varitus, mumbled.

"No," Ezeriah agreed. "We are not."

"Who?" Brother Talos inquired as he examined a body. Most had been reduced to small pieces, by blade and bullet. One thing that Ezeriah noticed was that the bodies lacked any signs of trauma beyond that. No burns, no ragged wounds or the like. No magic had been used to kill these undead.

"Imperials." The commander said. One of the Magi swore.

"Of course."

"It makes sense. They border Nostia, and would ensure that any threats were eliminated." Ezeriah sighed. Mentally he was recalculating their advance. If the Vaer agents had gotten this far, it could only mean that they had sent a Mage Hunter. Which meant they felt that this necromancer (or necromancers) was a serious threat.

"We keep moving." He spoke. "The trail leads off to the right, towards the main stairs. According to the report there ae other ways to get to the center of this decrepit hole. We'll find another way around. I don't relish a fight with Vaer any time soon." There was a general grunt of agreement.

"Right then. Forward."

-=-

In ages past, the Great Hall of Kelenyr had been host to celebrations, treaties, laughter, murder and tragedy all. In the times of the Mage Wars it became a symbol of the atrocities of blood magic. Now it was a tomb, host to only the figures that now crowded around the large table in the center of the room.

Each Necromancer Lord was cloaked in black, some with various bits of armor that had been scavenged. They whispered and muttered worriedly to one another.

"The intruders are getting too close!" One said loudly, standing.

"Why are the Arcians here? We prepared for a Mage Hunter, but not Battle Magi!" Another spoke up.

"Who still controls any minions?"

"Where is Lord Apophis?" This question rose above he others until it was the question on every necromancer's lips. Wild eyes flickered about the room in panic. "Has he abandoned us?"

"Peace." A voice spoke, not loudly yet it was head over the din, and everyone fell silent. A figure seemed to materialize out of the darkness that clung to the room, his visage shielded by the hood over his head.

"My Lord." One necromancer spoke up, bowing slightly. "The enemy is here! What do we-"

"Do not worry, Lord Havlion." The figure spoke again, is tone never rising above neutral. "All will go as planned. Pull back any forces you have left to the Hall. We will trap them here."

"But the Battle Magi-"

"They were unforeseen, but still killable. We will smite them along with the rest of these foul intruders."

The Necromancers seemed to calm, nodding to themselves in reassurance. Yes. Their lord was witht hem THey would not fail here. Slowly they began to coordinate with each other, devising placements for whatever undead still roamed the halls. Throughout this, the figure known as Apophis watched in silence.

[Damien]

"Tempestatis fulminis!" yelled Izaak, jumping back and placing his arm and hand outstretched in front of him. Motes of electricity danced around his hand. "Tell me who you are, and give me a reason to not kill you where you stand."

"My, my," said Sorin, "what fervor! Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sorin. Sorin Markov. And you are?"

"My name is Izaak. Now, here's where you will either live or die. How did you get into the tavern?"

"I'm the world's only living human master of shadow magic. I am what you would call a 'shadowmancer'," said Sorin. "I'll let your imagination take over the explanation."

"...shadow-stepping," said Izaak after a few seconds of contemplation. He slung his hand skyward, and a bright bolt of lightning formed from the electricity surrounding his hand, arcing into the sky. "Now, why were you in there? You're not the owner, and this place is closed."

"I decided I'd cause some trouble," replied Sorin, "and after tripping a man with his own shadow, I shadow-stepped here to elude him. Does that answer suffice?"

"I suppose," said Izaak, "but why use your magic for such mundane things?"

"Well--" began Sorin.

"Never mind. I don't need to know." Izaak turned away from Sorin and began walking in the direction of his cottage.

Sorin followed. This Izaak character seems like he'd be a useful ally.

[Mizagium]

"Valendis Gae'om", he returned, inclining his head. "This is Raefe, Jorsin, and Hesseppatt," he introduced in turn. "We're out here because, well...we're going to Kyros."

~~~~~

Inanis picked himself up roughly. "Ok, time to go." raised his swords with every intention of killing the man but was only stopped by Red.

"Stop, stop! He's drunk!"

"I know, but he attacked me."

"Calm down," she urged, trying to push him back, but failing. "Let me try to talk to him, ok?"

Inanis looked from her to the drunk, and back to her. "Fine. But if he even so much as looks over here - " he made a chopping motion across his throat - "go time."

Hurrying away before he changed his mind, Asayla stepped up the gasping drunkard. "Um, hello? I'm Asayla, what's your name?"

[Razgat]

Deyanira began to descend the cliff's side towards the abandoned castle. Though it wasn't actually abandoned, she just called it that. She knew that necromancers lived inside, but when most of the creatures who lived inside were undead, she could hardly call it populated. Yet she really had no idea how many people lived inside. She had lived on the outskirts for most of her life, and she only occasionally came to the castle when she was in search of random things to collect and play with. If people lived there, they never seemed to bother her then.

As she climbed down, she could clearly see machines hovering above the castle, moving slowly away. She noticed that they didn't entirely go away. It was like they were just creating a distance. "So there's people inside?"

She stepped up to the castle, hiding amongst the rubble. She heard gun shots. "Yep. Definitely people inside. Are they being attacked?"

She slowly sidled up to a side window, peeking inside. She made it just in time to see a group of people with guns move out of the room. "Wow, people! I haven't seen other people in a while. I wonder where they're from?"

It really should have seemed obvious.

[Monika]

"Kyros, huh?" Lenore hung her head down and reminisced. Admittedly, during the course of this 5 year long journey she and Kazan had undergone, they had never really explored Kyros for one reason and one reason only: Her father.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Five years ago, in the Morana family mansion...

"Eleanora...how long have you been hiding this boy?" spat Lenore's father, Lord Allen Morana. He was the imposing, stern and all-around-jerk of a patriarch of the family, and he stood towering above a young, timid Lenore and a seemingly younger, equally timid black haired boy. In truth, it was a 13 year old Kazan. He had been exiled from his village and was walking the streets in the cold and rain, so Lenore had offered him a place to stay in the basement of the mansion. It was clear that her generosity was not hereditary, as her father was absolutely furious. Her mother didn't even bother staying in the living room for the conversation, going instead to a secluded area of the home.


"Father!" Lenore squeaked. "He was alone out there on the streets! He had no place to go! If I had left him out there, he would've gotten sick and, and..." Lenore trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"What? Died?!" Allen laughed coldly, shaking his head in utter disgust. In a tone of mock pity he added "Oh, the poor wittle boy would've turned into buzzard food! Good riddance. It's not like he had a family to go back to, anyway."

"Father!" A stream of tears rolled down either of Lenore's eyes. Kazan glared at Allen intensely and motioned to put a comforting arm around Lenore's shoulder.

"Don't even think about touching my daughter, boy!" Allen sneered, raising a hand brimming with blue energy. He was a master arcanist and wasn't above striking young teenagers. Cruel and unrelenting, Allen made various hand motions to prepare for a blast of pure magical energy.

"NO!" Lenore stepped in front of Kazan and spread her arms out in an effort to protect him. Of course, Allen was tall and strong enough to just as easily reach behind her, pick Kazan up and rip him limb from limb, but the effort was touching enough that he lowered his hands in what could be construed as peace. Or maybe he was just screwing with them. Probably the latter.

"Honestly, Lenore!" Allen shook his head again and crossed his arms in a very 'disapproving parent' like fashion. "You brought a beggar into my house! If it were the child of another Senator or some other nobleman...Hell, I would've preferred a Mage Hunter or the Vaerian Emperor himself in my basement! But a street urchin? You disgust me!"

Lenore was practically trembling from sadness now, unable to say anything save for a few chokes and gasps in between periods of crying. She could feel Kazan trying to move from behind her to attack Allen, but as quietly as she could she whispered "No", motioning for him to stay put.

Fortunately, Allen didn't notice this potential challenge, too busy on his tirade. "Really, Lenore. The Morana family has a reputation to uphold! It's hard enough trying to remain a Senator in these times as it is! Do you honestly think I have time to deal with family issues, too? How can you be so selfish?! What do you think the neighbors would think if they found out we were housing some pathetic orphan? The Morana family would be the laughingstock of all of Kyros, maybe even all of Arcia!"

"Please, Father...Forgive me! I was just trying to help!" Lenore pleaded, staring up at Allen with eyes filled with sadness, despair, and fear. Allen quickly noticed one emotion missing from her expression, however: Regret. He could feel that she wasn't sorry for her actions, and he resolved to change this right away.

"Forgiveness, hmm?" he smirked, uncrossing his arms as if he were going to give someone a hug. Lenore almost stepped forward to embrace her father, but stopped dead in her tracks as he spoke again. "Ha. I'll give you this 'forgiveness' of yours. All you have to do is move away from the boy."

"Wh-What?" Lenore was understandably shocked and concerned. She was fairly used to the sort of conditional love and forgiveness the Morana family espoused, but this particular condition seemed...off. "What are you going to do to him?" Naturally, this was the first question that came to her mind, as it should have been.

"Have I not told you to never question your elders?" Allen glared at Lenore, who looked down to avoid the death gaze. "If you must know," he said, "I'm going to kill him."

"WHAT?!" Lenore stretched her arms out even further to protect Kazan, who received a nonverbal message that he should stay where he was to avoid death. "Father, you can't! That's barbaric! How can you-

"Don't talk back to me!" Allen spat, placing both of his hands in front of his chest, channeling arcane energy into them. "You see, Lenore..." His hands began glowing a bright blue again, emanating with pure magical power. "...I don't think you're truly sorry about what you did. If you really want my forgiveness, then step aside so I can teach you a lesson."

"But, Fath-

"NOW!" By this time, a soft hum could be heard from his hands; the amount of magic he was calling forth was immense and was increasing exponentially each passing moment.

Despite the threats from her father, Lenore stood firm, never moving from her spot in front of Kazan. She knew she had virtually no chance against her father, a man who had fit a century's worth of Arcane Magic studies into his nigh 50 year life. Nevertheless, she stood her ground, glancing around for something that could at least mitigate the pain that she and Kazan were about to experience. This is when something caught her eye, something that was just a couple feet away from her...

"So, you choose to die along with this boy? Awwww..." Allen jeered in mock pity, putting down his hands in another gesture of faux peace. "Pathetic!" Just as soon as he had put his hands down, he lifted them back toward his body in a Kamehameha-esque fashion and pushed them forward, sending an enormous torrent of arcane energy toward his daughter and the boy she had been so intent on helping.

Quickly thinking, Lenore put her foot under the 'something' she had noticed - it was the Morana family staff, the symbol of the family and her mother's weapon - and kicked it upward into her hands. She couldn't help but ask herself why her mother had left it there, especially since the matriarch of the Morana family is always supposed to have it. Lenore decided to dwell on the the thought later, when she wasn't in the middle of battle. She extended the staff and rapidly twirled it around in front of her. The weapon was a powerful one - the family had spared no expense on its design - and it was successfully able to form a sort of barrier around Lenore and Kazan, causing most of the arcane energy to pass around them.

"WHAT?!" Allen was shocked; that attack should have been lethal, especially to a couple of thirteen year old kids. Before he could try again, Lenore swept his feet from under him with the staff, sending him to the ground.

With all of her strength, Lenore delivered a sharp blow to her father's head with the staff, knocking him unconscious. Panting heavily, she wiped the tears from her eyes and spoke. "Let's go, Kazan."

"Go where?" he asked, simultaneously scared, shocked, amazed, and ecstatic about the battle he had just witnessed.

Lenore didn't answer. Instead, she turned around, grabbed Kazan's wrist and ran to her room. There they would gather all the supplies they would need to get as far away from the Morana Manor - and perhaps all of Kyros - as possible.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back in the present:

"Nooooriiii. Hey, Lenoooore!" Kazan waved his arms wildly in front of Lenore's face. She seemed to have dozed off or gone into another trance.

"Hmm?" Lenore looked back up and examined her surroundings. She was still in the middle of nowhere, standing next to Valendis, Kazan and an enormous dragon. "Oh..." 'It was just a daydream.' she thought. Returning to the conversation to divert concern away from her, she asked "Why exactly do you have to get to Kyros? What's there for you?"

[Mizagium]

"A summoning tome," Val began to explain.

"Supposedly," Raefe clarified.

"The Great Arcian Library - "

"Alleged library."

"Is said to house - "

"Rumored."

"An ancient - "

"And possibly imaginary."

"Summoning book."

"Maybe."

Valendis stared down at the tiny Fury sitting by his feet. She cocked her head sideways at him before rolling onto her back and stretching. "What? I'm just telling it like it is. We may very well be on a wild goose chase."

"Why can't you be positive?"

"Because," she purred. "You're always positive and it grates on me. Someone has to play devil's advocate."

"Well, anyway," he dismissed his pessimistic companion. "That's about it. We're looking for an old summoning book. You know how a lot of summoning knowledge has been lost, Ms. Lenora - well, we're trying to get it back."